


While You Were Sleeping, little Sister

by ninusch



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Bellarke, Christmas, Clarke white lies, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hospital, I try to be funny, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Loneliness, Sexual Tension, There will be smut at some point, While You Were Sleeping AU, fake!relationship, tw: coma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninusch/pseuds/ninusch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke knew her voice before she knew her face. Taking the same train every Monday, Tuesday and Friday morning for at least three months could do that to you. Also, she liked to spend the morning commute into the city on the phone, talking, and she would talk quite loud. [...] Her name was Octavia.</p><p>When Octavia has an accident, Clarke resorts to a white lie regarding their relationship. But she doesnt know that this would cause some serious problems when Octavias older brother suddenly shows up. </p><p>A "While You Were Sleeping" - AU fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. While You Were Sleeping, Little Sister - Music

* * *

 

 **Grass Stain - Waxahatchee**  
(Clarke)  
  
_I don't care_  
_if I'm too young to be unhappy_  
  
**Finally – The Frames**  
(Bellamy)  
  
_And when you want something so much_  
_It's drawing trouble on your life_  
_And when you found something so good_  
_It's hard to focus on what's right_  
  
**Drahtseiltakt – Jennifer Rostock**  
(Clarke)  
  
_Jeder Atemzug unter ihnen  
Ist ein Risiko_  
_Was du auch sagst und tust - du bleibst inkognito_  
  
**Dissolve Me – alt-J**  
(Bellamy)  
  
_And gold, fatless finger to lip, one two three four hush._  
_And pulse to pulse, now shush._  
  
**Overboard – Ingrid Mitchell**  
(Clarke)  
  
_But as strong as I seem to think I am my distressing damsel,_  
_She comes out at night when the moon's filled up and your eyes are_  
_bright, then I think I simply aught to_  
_Fall over, fall over, fall overboard_  
  
**Georgia – Vance Joy**  
(Bellamy)  
  
_And I could easily lose my mind_  
_The way you kiss me will work each time_  
_Pulling me back into the flames_  
  
**I’ll be your Lover, too – Van Morrison**  
(Clarke and Bellamy)  
  
_You'll be my queen_  
_I'll be your king_  
_And I'll be your lover too_  
  
**Under the table – Banks**  
(Clarke and Bellamy)  
  
_I'm already falling_  
_I couldn't help it, didn't think of the risks_  
_I got a problem_  
  
**Recover - Chvrches, Cover by Paolo Nutini**  
(Octavia)  
  
_I'll come clean_  
_Everywhere everyone knows it's me_  
_And if I recover_  
_Will you be my comfort_  
_Or it can be over_  
  
**Up the Wolves – The Mountain Goats**  
(Clarke and Bellamy)  
  
_There's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet_  
_No matter where you live_  
_There'll always be a few things, maybe several things_  
_That you're going to find really difficult to forgive_  
  
_There's going to come a day when you feel better_  
_You'll rise up free and easy on that day_  
_And float from branch to branch, lighter than the air_  
_Just when that day is coming, who can say, who can say?_

 

 


	2. Clarke - December, 20th

Clarke knew her voice before she knew her face.

Taking the same train every Monday, Tuesday and Friday morning for at least three months could do that. Also, the girl liked to spend the morning commute into the city on the phone, talking, and she would talk quite loudly. It was entertaining, really. At some point Clarke just left her book in her bag. She would lean into the seat and listen to the girl’s rambling about her freshman year at the college, her flat, parties, books, music and everything a woman in her early twenties would deal with. In the beginning, Clarke wasn’t sure to whom the girl was talking, if it was the same person or different people. Due to the conversations topics she soon figured out the following schedule:

  1. Monday would never be Lincoln, her affair-maybe-boyfriend-neither-was-so-sure-yet-but- he-had-great-abs-and-all. The amount of juicy details on stories that happened over the weekend with said abs-god was something one giggles into a phone to a best friend; In this case to Monty, “best gay person ever”.
  2. Tuesday seemed to be Lincoln’s day as they never manage to see each other mondays and, together or not, one day apart was too much to handle for both.
  3. Friday was Monty’s turn again, this time making plans for the weekend and sharing the newest Lincoln-stories.



Clarke could also rule out the following persons:

  1. It would never be the brother –they hadn’t been on speaking terms for the last eight months and “Bell [what kind of name was that even?] is behaving like his usual self, namely like a mad bull with a huge stick up his arse” but apparently 1000% intensified in comparison to their childhood.
  2. Their parents – both not in the picture at all. End of discussion.



Her name was Octavia.   
Which was her bull-headed brother’s fault, since he picked that name upon her birth. She was shopping for classes at the college, and working as a barista in a hidden coffee-place next to the hospital Clarke did her internship, helped in a copy shop on campus and in a tiny bookshop every other Saturday [Clarke went there, but only on days Octavia wouldn’t work. After all, she was not a stalker. Just highly curious.]

At some point, Clarke found she suffered along. It was like a small liaison for every 20 minutes commute from one of the outer areas of Chicago into the city. Since all her pre-med-School friends left for other graduate schools in the country, and her best friend Raven decided to leave the city for some alone time [and to follow a Jon-Krakauer-Into-the-Wild-path and was hiking through the Canadian wilderness towards Alaska since June and do-what-not, but without the dying and starving part obviously because she was a “too goddamn good mechanic to ever not find employment so get off my back already”], Clarke had to admit she was pretty lonely. Her parents lived in the Chicago suburbs, her mother was chief-surgeon at the hospital, but Clarke had moved into her own place years ago.

1) She’d never move back in, but 2) she craved some companionship.   
She didn’t do romance anymore, and offers had been limited anyway.

So what she and Octavia had [or She with Octavia without the latter’s actual knowledge], was the closest she got at the moment.   
She was no creeper! There were times [monday, tuesday and friday, 8:00 am sharp] and rules [don’t sit next to her, don’t talk to her, don’t get personally involved] and Clarke never breaks rules.

Until shit hit the fan, because of course karma was a bitch.

It was a cold, snowy sunday evening and Clarke had an early shift in the hospital the same day. She needed to finish some follow up on her report in the library, so she was late. It was just a few days until Christmas Eve, and gods! She hated the holidays! She longed for her couch, a hot tea and some sappy Netflix-time by herself. Clarke had taken shelter in one of the wind still shadow of a vending machine and pondered whether she might be able to get Raven on Skype when Octavia walked past her, phone in hand.

Clarke felt dumbstruck and kind of betrayed, which was again a clear sign to Clarke that her relationship with this girl wasn’t the healthiest one in the world. Meeting her off their train schedule was not part of the routine and clearly against the rules.Plus, she was too goddamn tired and cold to step out and see what was up. Clarke was angry with herself when something pushed her back into reality: Octavia’s scream for help.

Clarke leaped forwards and saw a group of hooded figures surrounding Octavia. Clarke was alone on the platform, but could hear someone shout from the track opposite. The gang started running away, and pushed the tiny, dark-haired girl away and Clarke heard her smashing against the schedule board. Glass shattered.

She started running, shouting to the other people on the side of the track “Call 911!!”   
When she reached Octavia, she was lying on the ground, breathing but unconscious. Cautiously Clarke felt her pulse and checked her pupil-reflexes before she tried the back of her head: Her fingers were sticky-red when she removed them.

Clarke rode with the ambulance.   
They were going to the hospital closest to the station, the one that Clarke didn’t work in and soon after, she found herself in the ER being questioned by the police. No sign of the gang assaulting Octavia Blake, bag gone. The two officers left her and she stood lost in the packed waiting room and didn’t know what to do. She queued up for the information desk and when she was next in line she still wasn’t sure what she was going to do.   
They would never give her information on Octavia anyway, but since her handbag was stolen and the phone broken, she was the only one who at least knew that she was in the hospital with a serious head-wound.

She didn’t know how to reach either Monty or Lincoln, or the ominous brother wherever he was. And although it was not Clarke’s problem at all, she cared.

“Yeah?”

Clarke looked at the on-call-nurse behind the bulletproof glass and was lost for words.

“How can I help you, Miss?” the brunette was clearly annoyed.

“I came with Octavia Blake earlier, robbery, and head-wound, probably concussion and without consciousness. Please, could you tell me where I can find her and how she is?”

“Are you family or relation?” Clarke bit her lip. The nurse didn’t wait long for an answer and immediately shot back: “If you are in no relation to the girl, I cannot let you ...”

It happened before she even knew what the actual fuck she was doing: “She is my girlfriend.”

The nurse stared at her, and Clarke stared back, stunned. _What the fuck, Clarke ... that was so against the rules!_

“Look, I’m sorry ...” the nurse was obviously uncomfortable with that new piece of information “... the policy here ... I can’t. Not that I don’t want to ... it just ... officially ...“ she looked quickly over her shoulder, “Ok, look, my best friend is a lesbian too, and honestly, the official statutes of this hospital are extremely intolerant and, in my view, homophobic.”

Clarke swallowed hard to a repeating chant of _ohshitohshitohshit_ in the back of her head, all while the nurse saw her keeping her breath and gave Clarke a sad smile, “Look, wait a moment. I will be back in a sec.”

Clarke just nodded and swallowed again. Her throat was paper-dry and how ... why ... She was so lost in her own screwup she didn’t realize that the on-call-nurse was gone and back again, “You can find her on the third floor, right side, trauma.”

The nurse buzzed the door open and Clarke staggered through. Apparently the on-call-nurse had called the station and informed them because a colleague waited for Clarke by the elevator. She was roughly the same age as Clarke and padded her shoulder emphatically: “Linda called us. You can find your girlfriend in room 3-27. I’m so sorry you had to wait, nobody knew and its super shitty for same-sex-couples to get the privileges straight-people do. Octavia is still unconscious.”

Clarke wasn’t able to reply when she saw Octavia lying on her back, tube in her mouth to help her breath.   
  
All Clarke could think was, that she had the most perfect eyebrows on this planet.

“It would help a lot to hear a familiar voice. Just talk to her.” the nurse padded her on the shoulder and left the room.

Clarke stood awkwardly at the end of the bed, and just for something to do, checked the file. Then she sat next to the bed.   
“Hey ...” her voice was hoarse. “I kind of told them that we are together... that I’m your partner. I’m so, so sorry! I really don’t know what came over me, I ... was worried.”

“I just missed the last train.” she told the unconscious girl. She hesitated, but then she took her hand too. Human touch and voice could help in case of temporary unconsciousness, familiar or not didn’t matter much. “I have to wait for the night train. Yeah ...

So, I should probably introduce myself. I’m Clarke, I’m twenty five and I was born and raised here in Chicago. I’m in med-school, but I’m doing my internship at a different hospital. We ... ride the train together every now and then and I guess we live in the same neighborhood, so you know how shitty the connection is on a weekday, lest weekend, right?

I couldn’t help ... but overhear you talk on the phone. It was smashed, by the way. So sorry about that. I wish I knew how to contact your brother. I know that you two don’t talk, but I guess he would really want to know how you are. And Lincoln and Monty too.”

Clarke sighed: “Well, what else could I tell you about myself ... I like to draw. My best friend is traveling Canada right know and ... Look, I didn’t mean to pry into your life, I just wanted to help and ... honestly ... I’m lonely. It’s not a nice feeling.”

Clarke suddenly felt tears swimming in her eyes, and she had to laugh about herself, sitting in a hospital on a Sunday night during a snow storm and confessing her life-problems to an unconscious girl she had stalked the last three months.

God, she was tired.

“I’m sorry. I will put it right as soon as possible. I’m sorry. But ... you know, you strike me as someone who would understand.”

++++ December 21st ++++

When Clarke woke up she had the worst backache imaginable.   
She realized that she must have fallen asleep on the crappy chair next to Octavia’s still unconscious form, and that someone must have put a blanket over her in the course of the night. She jumped off the chair and groaned immediately because her feet had also fallen asleep. When she checked her watch, it was eight in the morning and she was running late for her first lecture at school. She groaned again when she saw her serious case of bed-not-so-much-bed-hair in the reflection of the window.

Then, suddenly, the door behind her opened and someone stepped in. 

“Ehm … and who are you?”

Clarke swirled around and couldn’t help herself but stare. The man in the room wore washed jeans, a button-up shirt in which, apparently, he had slept, and he carried a small traveling bag in his hand. He was tall and tanned despite the lack of sun in this area of the country. He had broad shoulders, freckles in his face and a dark mob of curls that fell into his eyes. He was extremely handsome.

_Could that be Lincoln? Damn, she not only has perfect eyebrows, she also has the perfect boyfriend. Fuck my life._

“Who are you?!” he demanded again, angry this time and only now Clarke could see his red eyes and the dark circles underneath. He must have gotten less sleep than she did.

“I’m Clarke...”

The same moment the nurse from last night entered behind Lincoln, smiling and clearly soaking him in with big eyes when she said “Mr. Blake, this is your sister’s girlfriend.”

Clarke gaped at the nurse and it took her a few second to remember her white lie from last night before it clicked.

She had stepped into hells kitchen because this wasn’t the boyfriend-not-boyfriend but the brother.   
The one Octavia hadn’t talked to in the last eight months.   
The annoying bull-headed asshole. The one with the shitty name.   
This was Bell.

The police must have called him last night, and by the looks of it he must have only have arrived here a short time ago and it must have taken him the whole night.

“Wait, I should clarify ...” Clarke raised her hands to explain, when Bell dropped his bag on the floor with a bang and a confused “What?”

The nurse was pleased to be of assistance: “She was with Octavia when the robbery happened and she helped her immediately with first aid. She spent the whole night here, holding her hand.” She smiled at Clarke like she was the messiah reborn.

“O’s Girlfriend?” Bell repeated.

Like Clarke said ... karma was a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Grass Stain" - Waxahatchee  
> Betaed by the amazing Sunny! Thanks a bunch!  
> English is my second language, but I do my best and tips are always appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. :-)  
> Follow me on tumblr if you want: http://things-of-inspiration.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hugs, Nina


	3. Bellamy - December, 21st

This had been the shittiest night in the last eight months.

That by no way meant that there hadn’t been a lot of other shitty ones recently.  Heck, his whole life was practically one shitty night at this point.   
But ever since his big fight with Octavia upon her moving out and moving to Chicago and “Fuck-you-Big-Brother-don’t-call-me-or-so-help-me-God” this one got the trophy.

He just came home from yet another tiresome meeting with Frank, the bank guy.   
They were on a first-name-basis and they would meet on a Sunday night, because a) it was a small town and he had known Frank since he entered school and Frank had had acne and braces and was beaten up for lunch money and b) they met regularly because Bellamy took up several credits on the house and shop and ... well, it was safe to say that Bellamys financial situation was dire.   
Very dire. 

He had just taken a beer from the fridge when the phone started ringing and a police officer told him that his little sister had been robbed and was now in hospital with a heavy concussion and unconscious. That they didn’t know what asshole was responsible. And that although someone had been there immediately with her they didn’t knew when she would wake up. Whether she would wake up at all. As he was her only relation, and not other emergency contact was found, he had to come to Chicago.

He had just enough sense left to call Murphy to take care of the shop, to pack a toothbrush and some underwear to change before he jumped into his rusty truck and took the 8 hour drive to the city without a break, because ... fuck. 

That was his little sister, and she was alone and hurt and he hadn’t been there to prevent it.   
He arrived in Chicago in the morning and stormed past everyone who stood in his way and could not help him find O. When he met that disturbingly awake and happy nurse, Ashley, in the hallway, she pointed him to O’s room and there she was. Tube in her mouth, needles in her arm. She looked like she was just sleeping, and he felt tears in his eyes.   
  
He hadn’t seen her since their fight and God. He had missed her so much.

It took him only a couple of seconds to scan O before he saw the other girl. She jumped when he entered and stared at him with big, shocking blue eyes. She was small, with messy blond hair and a bold mole on her upper lip.

“Ehm ... and who are you?” She looked at him like he caught her in the act of something bad and didn’t answer straight away. She only continued to stare at him in return.

Bellamy felt his patience running dry.

“Who are you?!”, he demanded. _Fuck this. My sister had a goddamn accident, I need to know how she is, who are you even? I need coffee, and a doctor I can talk to about O and ..._

“I’m Clarke ...” She had a deeper voice than he expected and she was clearly uncomfortable.

The same moment the nurse from earlier appeared next to him: “Mr. Blake, this is your sister’s girlfriend.”

At first he didn’t understand.

Her ... friend, she was a friend, okay, why not, not that there was family lining up to hold O’s hand, but then it clicked, he understood what she really said, like friend like girlfriend like life partner, like same-sex, like his little sister and the blonde girl in front of him together and ...

“Wait, I should clarify ...”, Clarke raised her hands, because apparently that was not how she had imagined meeting her girlfriend’s family for the first time, and when his bag slipped his grip and dropped on the floor with a bang, she jumped again and he just answered with a confused “What?” because Bellamy did not imagine his sister’s coming out happening like this. 

Like he never even imagined it happing at all. O just dated too many male assholes for him to even take it into consideration.

The nurse looked too goddamn pleased with herself when she said: “She was with Octavia when the robbery happened and she helped her immediately with first aid. She spent the whole night here, holding her hand.”

She sighed and gave Clarke her brightest smile yet and Bellamy couldn’t help but repeat himself helpless, “O’s Girlfriend?”

Clarke winced. 

“I didn’t know O had ... that she ... I ...” he frowned “I didn’t think she was a lesbian.”

Clarke stared at him and suddenly an angry flash went through her eyes and it struck Bellamy to his core.

“ _This_ is your main problem right now? The sexuality of your sister? Heavens, she’s been robbed and beaten and in a coma most likely! Get a grip and get your priorities in order, man!”

Bellamy stared at her ... had she just screamed at him? Accused him of being homophobe even? He honestly lost track, when was the last time he had slept, or drunk some water. It must have been ages, with Frank, because Frank didn’t drink alcohol, he was only ever offered tea or lemonade, and oh, he forgot to call Frank to cancel their appointment at the bank today, and O was in a fucking coma?

Apparently he must have said some of the things out loud, because both Clarke and the nurse stared at him. Then the nurse touched his forearm and announced that she would call for a doctor.

Clarke just snorted.

 _What is her goddamn problem?!_   
Bellamy felt that he became angry with that Clarke-girl and decided to have a good and long talk with O to remind her to _please_ not choose anymore assholes to date – no matter their primary sex characteristics.

She turned around and grabbed her jacket. _Good! Leave! We don’t need you, you snobbish, bull dyke ..._

“Look, I’m sorry this happened and I don’t know you, but maybe you should take a seat and work through one problem at a time? Like your sister being sick, for starters?”

She signaled him to sit down and Bellamy’s anger blew away as quickly as it had come. She seemed genuinely worried and he had to admit she was right. His number one priority had always been Octavia’s well-being. So he did as she said and took a glass of water from her.

Clarke stood next to him and watched him for a moment while he looked at O in the hospital bed.

“This can’t be happening. I mean, look at her?” Bellamy felt the lump in his throat and Clarke must have heard it, too, because she put one hand on his shoulder, “She is so tiny, and she shouldn’t be in here. She has too much energy for this, she could never hold still for even a second...“

“Just drink some water”, Clarke advised, and he obliged.

“What happened?”

Clarke looked at Octavia too, and the concern on her face was obvious: “They took her bag and pushed her when she screamed for help. She banged her head against a glass panel at the platform. She had some stitches and her brain is suffering a small swelling, but so far it seems that it is nothing too dangerous. The first night is usually the most critical one. She is monitored 24/7 in case anything gets worse. They will do some more tests on her today to figure out what is going on exactly.”

She found him staring up at her from his chair. She didn’t look away.

“Did the doctors tell you this?"

“No, it’s in her file."

“You can understand that hospital-gibberish?”

She smirked. He liked that.

“I’m a med student, by now I should be able to understand it.”

He stared at her again in awe. “How long have you known O?”

 Clarke winced again. This was clearly a sensitive topic for everyone involved.

“Roughly three months.”

She avoided his gaze now and Bellamy suddenly realized that he would most probably try to get her number had he seen her in a bar first. And he was positive that he probably would be very disappointed if she didn’t respond to his advances. He usually wasn’t into blondes at all. But Clarke struck him to the core and he couldn’t say why. That she was clever seemed just to be the frosting of the cake. That she was dating his sister ... well.

_Shit, Bellamy, get a grip!_

“I didn’t know ... that she was ... into girls. I ... we haven’t talked in a while. I hadn’t heard from her until the call from the police last night, so I got into the car and came here immediately.” Their fight and the radio-silence after now seemed more trivial than ever. He buried his face in his palms.

When he looked up again after a long moment of putting himself together again, Clarke was still standing next to him. She studied him and her face showed that fighter-expression from earlier. Bellamy found that he liked that very much too.

“I didn’t know. She never ... so much as ... I don’t know, it had always been boys for her ... she never mentioned ... always boys.”

Clarke sighed, “You know, the B in LGBTIQ is there for a reason.” He stared at her and she raised one eyebrow: “B for bisexual?”

Bellamy had to laugh hoarsely. “Yeah of course ... I ... sorry. I’m stupid, apparently. I’m sorry, I didn’t... you just don’t look like a lesbian.”

He coughed when he saw her frown again.

She spat, “Interesting. So please tell me just what would a lesbian actually look in your distinguished opinion?”

“Shit! I didn’t mean this like this ... I mean, yeah a little bit maybe ... but not like you understood! You look great! Really, but you don’t have this vibe, I don’t know ... I’d probably hit on you in a bar or something ...”

_Ok, that was clearly a mistake!_

Clarke moved away from him.

“Okay, I don’t know what is going on right now but you seriously need to stop talking!” She was furious and simultaneously eyed the door.

_Great job Blake! Why don’t you just piss her off again for a fourth time within ten minutes??_

He stood up and only now realized just how much smaller she was in comparison to him. But although he towered over her she didn’t step back. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, I ...” he held out his hand, “I’m ... talking shit, I haven’t slept in a really long time ... that’s no excuse obviously, but an explanation maybe? I’m Bellamy, Octavia’s older Jerk-brother. I don’t mean to be dismissive or anything ... it’s ... it’s been a long night. It’s a lot to take in. I’m Bellamy.”

She stared up at him with an odd expression until he realized that he now also managed to introduce himself twice, right after casting around intolerant, neglecting comments towards his sister’s sexuality, verbally insulted Octavia’s lesbian girlfriend multiple times while telling her that he found her so attractive he would flirt with her regardless her romantic preferences. How much of an ass could one person be, honestly?

He still offered her his hand and he couldn’t explain it: whether it was his sorry existence, his clear confusion, her manners or something else, but she had to laugh, just once and loud, before she took it. Her grip was firm, her hands were small and warm and they made Bellamy’s hand prickle when she met his gaze with a small smile.

“It’s fine ... I guess. I’m Clarke.”

She didn’t let go. Neither did he.

Suddenly the door opened and a young doctor rushed in, ignoring their awkward jumping apart and if Bellamy hadn’t been so focused on the doctors scanning through O’s file, he might have noticed Clarke's confused look at her hand.

The doctor finally honored him with his attention and explained everything that happened to O again, in more than extensive hospital-gibberish. But when Bellamy looked for Clarke to come to his aid, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Finally" - The Frames  
> Betaed by the amazing Sunny! Thanks a bunch!  
> English is my second language, but I do my best and tips are always appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. :-)  
> Follow me on tumblr if you want: http://things-of-inspiration.tumblr.com/
> 
> Hugs, Nina


	4. Clarke - December, 22nd

She had spent half an hour sitting on the bench in front of the ER pondering about what she should do.

The coffee she bought at this super hip, far too overpriced and horribly overcrowded coffee place around the corner was now cold, and someone had smashed her against the door of the subway train in a hurry so the muffin in the paper bag was now an unrecognizable bulk of sticky smashed muffin-ingredients with sugary frosting.

So much for her peace offering for Bellamy Blake.

She had left the hospital room yesterday in a hurry when the doctor marched in and she saw the look of desperate hope on Bellamy’s face.  She was still unsure why she got into a discussion with him about LGBTIQ in the first place and why in the hell she did not tell him of the misunderstanding.

 _Who are you even kidding?_ _That wasn’t just a misunderstanding, that was a blatant lie!_

She found she had enjoyed the bantering with him and she liked ruffling his feathers. His reaction to the possibility of his sister being gay was, honestly, ridiculous and Clarke had enjoyed plucking him apart. He had to suffer her weak and petty revenge for his damn good looks, and his stupid comments and his sister’s damned perfect eyebrows and the backache she had from spending the night in that horrible chair.

But, after all, the real reason why she ran with a tucked in tail was because she just couldn’t see herself telling Bellamy Blake the truth.  That the thought of confessing to him that she was in fact no more than a creepy stalker to his sister and certainly not her lesbian girlfriend and that what she had said about herself and Octavia was a lie all but made her sick to the stomach.

She had realized that her first impulse was to not have Bellamy Blake look at her with disgust. For whatever reason.

So, obviously, she figured that it would be the best solution to just never see either Blake again.

Ever. 

She would just not show up again and leave him wondering about that weird girlfriend. And as soon as Octavia woke up everything would be solved as a big misunderstanding and everybody would be confused at the beginning. But confusion would turn into slight anger and no one, really nobody, would ever meet her again and she and her shameful behavior would soon be forgotten as long as she just strictly never took the train to town at eight in the morning _ever again_.

For two hours this seemed to be the perfect plan for Clarke and she was convinced to leave the previous night behind her as the most just recent albeit most tragic because most pathetic episode in her recently very much pathetic life.

Problem solved.

She had missed her first class but went to the second, then to the third and then to the library. She was working hard and tried to avoid any reflecting surface to ignore the problem with her bed-not- so-much-bed-hair. And all the time she was reading up on head trauma, neurology and trauma induced coma while checking the website of the police regarding a rob-and-run the night before.

Clarke sighed and watched the busy entrance, ambulances coming and going, staff taking smoking breaks and kept pondering what to do what she should do.  
She would probably still sit on that bench, freeze her ass off and get a goddamn cystitis if not the happy-weird-on-call nurse from last night had walked by.

“Hey, you are that girl from yesterday? Octavia’s girlfriend?”

Clarke looked up. _There goes the plan to sneak away unrecognized._

“Oh my God, what are you doing out here, its freezing!” the nurse clutched her arm and pulled her towards the entrance.

“I’m ... yeah ... not really ... I don’t know.”

While Clarke was being led through the ER and up to trauma the nurse started talking: “We were a little bit worried when you suddenly disappeared yesterday. I mean, after all no one knew how to reach you in case something was changing with Octavia. Oh, and especially Bellamy! He didn’t want you to think that he didn’t like you or anything, he told me. He is very, very sad about what happened. It was all just a big misunderstanding. He is so nice and kind. Believe me, I know people.”

_Sure thing. I believe you want him in your pants._

“How is she? Octavia?” Clarke’s voice faltered a little bit towards the end. After all, the strange girl on the subway had grown on her and she was concerned. She wondered what she would have thought if Octavia had just stopped showing up for the train without Clarke knowing what happened to her.

The nurse looked at her with a sad smile: “Unchanged, I’m afraid. The doctors say that they will have to keep monitoring and making some extra tests to be sure nothing was overlooked. Bellamy is so worried! He asked me to explain everything to him because he couldn’t understand this ‘hospital gibberish’. I had to laugh, because ... well, it really is that, isn’t it? We kind of have our own language here but I think he understands now and I’m very happy I could help him that way.”

The lift went up.

“... and very nice and so, so worried about Octavia. She is so lucky to have a brother like him. But still ... Poor girl! I’m sorry you two have to endure this.” The nurse looked at her: “You are such a nice couple.”

Clarke had zoned out during her rambling about poor Bellamy Blake but now she winced: “Who is?”

The woman next to her laughed: “You and Octavia, of course. You complement each other very nicely, I think. It hasn’t been going on that long between you two yet, I guess...”

 _This is getting impertinent_ , Clarke thought, giving a tortured laugh, which seemed to satisfy the nurse that her guess had been right. The elevator doors opened and Clarke aimed for a quick get away but somehow the nurse beat her to it.

“Bellamy, look who is here!” She stomped right to Octavia’s room. Clarke winced again. She did that a lot these days.

Bellamy stepped out and his face lit up when he saw her.

It made Clarke’s stomach flutter. _Oh ...Fuck my life._

“Clarke! I’m so glad you are back. I thought I ruined things for O for good.” With a few strides he was in front of her, he bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. With one hand still resting on her shoulder he was towering over her, looking confused. Then he smirked.

“I don’t really know why I just did that.” 

Clarke tried hard not to blush and cleared her throat: “Still not caught up on that sleep?”

He ruffled his hair, leaving it in an even more attractive mess and was again smirking at her. She found she liked it when he did that.

“The chairs are not really comfy. But you know that.”

Clarke wanted to stop him right there and then and was raising her hands when he saw the coffee tray.

“You just became my personal heroine, the coffee here is crap.”

“No, wait ...” He already gulped down a mouthful and she saw his facial expression turning sour upon realizing that it was ice cold.

“Sorry ...” 

“Yeah, you better are. Baiting with cold coffee is heartless, princess.”

“What are you calling me?” 

“Princess. Fits you.” 

“Seriously, you have no manners.” 

“So you keep telling me”, he smirked again. _Damn you Blakes!_

Without waiting for her reply, he continued: “Octavia is unchanged so far. The damn doctors keep talking to me but all I understand is a lot of bla bla.”, he pondered for a moment, then added “Don’t tell the nurse or I will never get her off my back.”

Unwillingly Clarke had to laugh.

Apparently, he took it as as a sign that she had forgiven him for his behavior the previous day because he took her elbow and gently led her to Octavia’s room. They had removed the tube from her mouth which was a good sign, as it meant that she was breathing well on her own. She told this to Bellamy and he lit up. Together they went through Octavia’s file and Bellamy asked her a lot of questions, most of which she could answer. It got dark outside when Clarke flipped the file close.

Bellamy smiled at her: “Thank you. Honestly. I was going nuts not knowing what is going on.”

“What will you do now?” she asked. ”

“I dunno. There is little more left than wait until she will wake up again soon.” He stared at Octavia like he could force her to wake up like this.

After a long period of silence he continued: “I was thinking that I might get some stuff for her place. Familiar things, her blanket and some of her clothes and books ... I was thinking if I could make this room more habitable, more familiar to her, if she is surrounded with good things she might ... sense it.”

He was talking to more himself than Clarke. She nodded anyway. _It would keep him occupied at least._

“The police gave me her details and I was trying the landlord, but apparently he is on an early holiday vacation. It will take ages until I can get a key and into the apartment.” He growled at that.

Without moving her gaze from Octavia Clarke answered, “She keeps a spare key in the broken lamp at the end of her hallway, next to the trash-dump.”

Bellamy stared at her.

Clarke stared back.

 

~ ~ ~ 3 weeks earlier ~ ~ ~

_“Are you fucking kidding me, Lincoln??” Octavia started loud but became very silent towards the end of the sentence._

_Clarke was sitting in the row before her and could hear every word. This was one of the moments where she wished she wouldn’t._

_But she was a weak human being._

_“How can one forget his_ jacket _when it’s November in frigging Chicago?! Seriously, explain yourself! ... Of course I have a spare key! It’s ...” She mumbled into her phone._

_“No, Lincoln, listen to me, it’s in ....” She mumbled again._

_Then she growled frustrated: “In the frigging broken lamp at the frigging end of the hallway next to the frigging trash-dump, jeez Lincoln now the whole train knows! ... Yeah ... yeah ... welcome. Bye.”_

 

 

“You are amazing, Clarke!” Bellamy got up immediately and took his jacket, “Wanna come?”

Clarke stared at him with a dry throat.

He smiled encouragingly.

She was such a weak, _weak_ human being: “Sure.”

Ten minutes later she sat next to Bellamy Blake while he steered his truck through the rush hour traffic. She mustered him: “You care a lot about her.”

“She is my baby sister. I raised her. Of course I do.”

“I was not aware, sorry.”

Bellamy looked at her and his eyes became sad: “So she wouldn’t talk about me then? She wouldn’t mention me at all?”

Clarke suddenly remembered that she still hadn’t said anything about their tricky situation at hand. Her stomach cramped and she was feverishly thinking how she could just tell him about her lie without being thrown out of a driving car.

When she didn’t answer straight away, he begged, “Clarke, please I need to know.”

Clare bit her lip.

 

_~ ~ ~ 2 months earlier ~ ~ ~_

_The train had already been crowded when it stopped at their station._

_Clarke clutched to a pole and could only hear her muffled through the crowd of people in between them._

_“No Monty! I will not call him. This is his fault, he is just so stupid!_

_... He always thinks he knows best, but he doesn’t. Just because he is my older brother doesn’t mean that he can order me around for the rest of my life! I’m stronger than he thinks, I’m 20 years old. I won’t be babied anymore by him._

_... Of course I miss him! He is my big brother but he is just plain wrong this time! And he doesn’t even care to recognize that! I’m fed up with this!_

_... Look, I need to do this. I will show him. But for now ... I just don’t want to talk or hear about Bell anymore, so I beg you, please don’t ask me again, ok?”_

 

 

 

“She missed you. But whatever happened between you, it made her very angry. I think she wanted to proof to you that she could do it on her own.”

Bellamy nodded and kept staring at the road before them. The circles around his eyes were even deeper than yesterday and Clarke sighed, _He cares about her very much. He loves her._

After a short while she gave in to her curiosity. “What happened?”

He sighed and she could see in his face that he was thinking about how to start: “I was being possessive, basically. Too possessive. You know, it was always me and O against the world. Our mum tried her best but it was hard. She was working all day to keep up, so I was the one taking care of Octavia: cooking, cleaning, helping her with homework and reading to her before bedtime and all that.

At some point I had my phase where it just got too much. I wanted to be a teenager and do my own thing, do sports, hang out with friends and drink and flirt with girls and all that. I didn’t want to have to look after my baby sister as I had to. I never had her be neglected; you have to believe me that. But I let her feel that she was a burden to me. I think this is where I lost O’s trust without ever really being able to earn it back completely.

Then our mum got sick and she died not long after. I _fought_. I fought so hard to keep O in my custody after she died. I was just eighteen years old but I succeeded. I kept the store ...” his tone dropped on a sour tone at that point, “... and I pulled Octavia through school. She got accepted to multiple colleges. But when I said that I didn’t want her to leave town but stay there and go to community college, she lost it. She wanted to leave and explore. We fought for two weeks and in the end she packed her things and just left. Haven’t talked to her since.”

He sighed. They stopped at a red light. He turned towards Clarke.

“I didn’t want her to stay in that place forever. Really! It's a dead end and I know that. But I also didn’t want to lose her and ... I couldn’t leave because of the house, because of the shop, because of all I did so she could grow up unbothered and finish school. So, when she demanded her freedom I was being selfish again. I just didn’t ... want her to leave me.”

Clarke swallowed hard.

Bellamy suddenly looked at her: “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I haven’t really talked with anyone about this before.”

He was as confused as she was.

But she also recognized that he was very lonely. A feeling she knew just too well.

Following an impulse she put her hand over his on the gearshift: “You didn’t. I’m glad you told me. I know how you must feel.”

He looked at her and then his eyes shifted to her lips and hers did to his and Clarke opened her mouth and then a horn took them out of their trance. The red light had switched to green.

Bellamy Blake hit the gas and the silence between them became embarrassing and persisted until they stopped in front of an apartment building not far away from Clarke’s.

_So much for my never-ever-meet-again-plans as soon as this is over. She and I are practically neighbors._

Bellamy led the way, much to Clarke’s joy because there was no way she could keep up the charade if he asked her where Octavia’s rooms where exactly.

 

_~ ~ ~ 5 weeks earlier ~ ~ ~_

_Octavia laughed heartily and played with the end of her hair: “I haven’t told you yet. Jeez, Monty you won’t believe it! Some douche bag in my building painted a huge smiley on my apartment door with spray paint. It’s the fourth fucking floor. I live on the end of the hallway! And my door is the only one! Someone had it in for me, god knows why. I mean is there really nothing better to do?_

_... Haha, yes, but now it’s very easy to find my flat if I’m drunk too. By the way, is Jasper throwing the party on Friday now or what? The boy is stalling like it’s his job.”_

 

 

 

Clarke cursed her traitorous brain while she worked her way up to the fourth floor (without elevator).

“Having trouble breathing, princess?” Bellamy called from his considerable lead.

“Shut it, Blake.”

She heard him laughing heartily and had to smile herself. She liked his laugh too.

When she reached him he had already found the key and was fumbling with the lock. Apparently the smiley had been removed since then.

“Fuck me ...” he sighed when he opened the door.

Octavia’s apartment was, positively speaking, a mess. Articles of clothing, papers, empty food-bags and other things where spread from the hallway to the kitchen counter.  It was small. It was cozy.

“Believe me ... I raised her better than this.” Bellamy looked tortured.

Clarke padded him encouragingly on the shoulder when they stepped into the apartment. He strode directly into the small compartment with Octavia’s bed. Clarke just stood and observed. Octavia had a knack for batik cloths. There was a poster of a painting of Frida Kahlo as well as portraits of Simone de Beauvoir and Marilyn Monroe hanging on the walls. The books on a small shelf ranked from psychology 101 to used YA-novels.

Clarke took a big, leather-bound edition of collected Greek and Roman mythology in her hand.

“I used to read that to her.” Bellamy suddenly said from behind her back. She turned and saw him with a small bag in one hand and a colorful quilt in his other.

“Bring it.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow: “You used to read stories about jealous, egocentric, cruel and sex-driven gods to your baby sister?” 

Bellamy smirked again: “She grew tired of fairytales. She and I are dark like that.”

She looked at his shark-like grin and believed it without a doubt.

He mustered her: “But looking at you I presume you are one of those who just couldn’t stop listening to them while hoping that some kind of fairytale would happen to you, too, at some point. Am I right, princess?”

She opened her mouth to reply but found she could hardly counter his argument. She had been a sucker for fairytales as a child. Still was. Those assholes Brother Grimm and Walt Disney pretty much ruined her for every relationship reality would be able to offer her. One look at her current predicament was proof enough.

"Thought so.” Bellamy sacked his win and turned around.

“Rude” was all she could manage and while she watched him advancing on one of the drawers she realized that he enjoyed bantering with her as much as she did.

Her stomach fluttered again. She cursed silently.

Bellamy opened the top drawer but slammed it shut again within a second.

She jumped. “What is it?”

“I ... nothing ... I ...” he stammered.

“Nonsense, what is ...” she opened the drawer again and stopped short.

On a pile of panties in all sorts and colors was a pink dildo.

Clarke felt Bellamy’s gaze on her neck and the blood rushing to her cheeks. _This is getting very awkward very quick._

“I will ... look ... at something else.” he left her side and Clarke felt an evil grin stretch her face.

Time to give Bellamy Blake some payback.

“So, ...”, waving the dildo casually in her hand she looked at him with a curious expression, “ ... are you uncomfortable because this is your sister’s or is it a general male sentiment in regard to the fact that women don’t actually need you to take care of themselves? Looking at you, you strike me as someone who might have a problem with that, especially when I remember our conversation from yesterday.”

He looked at her, at the dildo and back at her and Clarke could see that he sensed her trap.

“I apologized for yesterday.” _Weak response._

“You did. But that still isn’t answering my question.” 

He kept stalling.

“Do you feel intimidated?” She relished in his squirming too much to be sensitive of her own situation.

“No. Would you stop playi- ... waving that thing around please?” 

“Why?” 

“Because this is ... damn it, Clarke. This is my sister’s ... and your ... business.”

 _Oh. That is what he was thinking about._ She kept her pokerface.

He laughed helplessly: “I have my issues with being overprotective of her, but I’m working on that. I may be the one who had _the talk_ with her but I’d rather not know more about what she is doing with that kind of knowledge anymore. Please?”

The last part sounded much like surrender so Clarke shrugged and packed it away again.

When she turned around, Bellamy was mustering her intensely.

“What?” she became uncomfortable and she wondered if he was still imagining her doing the things the women in the fake-lesbian-porn-clips did and she felt her stomach clench and ...

“I should have warned my sister about people like you.” Clarke was speechless at first.

“And ... what kind of a person would that be?”

“I only warned her to stay away from the bad boys. I was one, too, so I knew about them. But I never thought to warn her that there are other kinds of heartbreakers as well.”

Clarke was stunned.

“I’m not a heartbreaker” she answered with a thin voice and tried to busy her hands with her jacket.

When she looked up again he was still staring at her.

There was regret in his voice somewhere.

“I think you very much are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Drahtseiltakt" - Jennifer Rostock
> 
> Betaed by the amazing Sunny! Thanks a bunch!  
> English is my second language, but I do my best and tips are always appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. :-)  
> Follow me on tumblr if you want: http://things-of-inspiration.tumblr.com/


	5. Bellamy - December, 25th

Somehow he had ended up in Clarke Griffin’s shower. It was ... confusing. 

He had tried.   
He had tried very hard not to be bothered by her lack of presence at O’s sickbed after the day they had spent together in the hospital and during their adventure to Octavia’s apartment. He had tried for two days. 

Then, he caved. 

He had looked up her address and drove his truck to her place where he spent half an hour drumming against the steering wheel and pondering whether he should knock on her door or not. 

The thing was ... it was not his problem. 

She, Clarke freaking Griffin, was Octavia’s problem while he was supposed to figure out how to pay the hospital bill and then the mortgage on the shop and the second mortgage on the house, but then he also always wanted to go on with his own life and maybe go to college, too, but how to pay for tuition? And Frank would have his head for asking for a student loan on top on the other things. 

See? Clarke Griffin, the least of his problems. If any at all. 

But then, he also just couldn’t stop talking shit as soon as she was close and he had already provoked her more than just once and it was just _so_ natural to rile her up pretty good, same as she did to him. But if there was something he really, _really_ did not want to screw up, then it was his score with Octavia. And in this department the ice was already thin enough. Driving away her girlfriend just because the latter got under his skin so badly would break it for good. 

In consequence, Bellamy was determined to make an utter fool out of himself if need be. And need there was. Clarke hadn’t been in the hospital for two days. It was Christmas. He might not have been the supreme authority on how to read women, but this he knew- ... it was a bad sign. 

Bellamy got out of the car, marched to the third floor like a soldier preparing for battle and knocked without further ado. 

Something inside the apartment fell and shattered. He heard a loud “SHIT”, some shuffling, some more swearing and then someone stomped towards the door, godzilla-style. 

Clarke opened the door. Her hand was covered with a kitchen towel that had blood stains on it and she wore a dressing gown, while one half of her face had make-up on and the other didn’t. There was a stain of mascara that decorated her cheek next to her eye. 

Bellamy felt he was afraid. “I have the worst timing, haven’t I?”  
She just stared at him wide-eyed. “How do you know where I live?!” 

“Phone book.” 

“Those still exist?” 

“Yes.” 

Suddenly she became self-aware of her situation and he saw her cheeks flush in embarrassment. (After watching her waving Octavia’s dildo back and forth Bellamy hadn’t been so sure it was possible to embarrass Clarke Griffin. It gave him a twisted pleasure that he – at least – managed _that_. No matter how inappropriate.) 

“Look, I can come back ...” he had already turned to leave, all courage lost, when ... “No, wait.” 

She let him in. 

“Sorry, I’m ... just in a rush, I’m running late and then I dropped the hand mirror when you rang and ...” she hurried past him into the spacious two room apartment and he found her kneeling in front of the couch and gathering up glass splitters. He knelt beside her and helped. 

“Want me to bind that up?” he nodded towards her left hand. The cut was bleeding through the kitchen towel and after getting her first aid kit from the bathroom they sat down, Clarkes hand in his lap. It was easier to talk to her when his eyes were trained on disinfecting and binding her cut. 

_Maybe, next time, I should just hit her with my car when I need to speak with her? To make the job easier?_

He winced at the thought. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you. I didn’t mean to barge into your place like that, but I haven’t seen you in the hospital the last two days. I was a little bit concerned because ... well, you know ... I didn’t shut up when we were at O’s place. Was talking a lot of dumb stuff. And I just want to make sure I did not drive you away for good. I don’t really know what’s with you and Octavia and it’s not my business and I was imposing with what I said to you and about you. I’m a douche. But ...”, he sighed, “you already knew that.” 

When he looked up, Clarke was gazing at him intensely. He felt the blood rushing not into his head but into his groin. _Damn._

“You apologize often.” 

He had to laugh, just once but loud. “Actually, I barely apologize. O used to tell me that I was as bull-headed as they come.” He smirked at the thought and made the mistake to look right into her blue eyes. 

“Only to you.” His voice faltered towards the end. 

Her lips parted in a small gasp. Then her gaze dropped to his lips and darted back to his eyes again and he saw her pupils had dilated and her fingers flexed closer around his where he was still having her hand in her lap. He felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water into his stomach. They sat very close and immediately, upon realizing that he was staring at her lips too, he stood up. Clarke’s hand fell to her side. 

“I better go.” _Oh, you are so screwed, Blake!  
_ “Wait”, she stood up as well. “It wasn’t ... because of you, Bellamy.” 

It took him an embarrassingly long moment to remember what she was talking about. And she was thinking, too, because it took a bit before she continued to explain herself: “The hospital. I mean, I didn’t come to visit because I had to work yesterday and I spent most of today catching up on sleep. The shift was ... tense. There was a lot to do. And today, well, my parents have this thing, this Christmas party for friends and colleagues and it’s ... it’s today and I’m running a little bit late and it wasn’t because of you. That I was not in the hospital the last days.” 

He nodded.  
  
“Working on Christmas in a hospital must be ... hard.” He swallowed. 

Clarke’s eyes suddenly glazed over a little bit. She looked tired under the one half of her eyes-make up. 

“You look very tired.” Bellamy said softly and Clarke just nodded. 

“I am. I’m so tired. Not just the shift. It is ... everything.” 

Their eyes met again and Bellamy’s mouth dried out. He shifted and touched her arm in a reassuring gesture. He knew. God, he _knew_ so well. 

Suddenly Clarke furrowed her brow: “Is that the same shirt you wore the last times I saw you?” 

Completely confused by the change of topic he looked down at himself. 

It was. He had no other shirt with him. 

“I didn’t really pack much before I left for Chicago. I wash it in the sink though. Ashley was nice enough to lend me some scrubs.” He shuddered a little bit at the thought of the station nurse. 

Clarke laughed: “Yeah. I have noticed that she fancies you a lot, doesn’t she?” Bellamy smirked: “And here I thought we were being subtle.” 

“Sorry to disappoint. You’re not that hard to read.” She smiled and the mascarasmudge disappeared in a laughter line next to her eye. He liked that. Something like pride rushed through Bellamy’s veins when he saw that the sad expression on her face had vanished completely. 

Their eyes met again and, _Honestly, Bellamy, this is becoming a bad habit. Snap. Out. Of. It!_

“Don’t you stay in a hotel or something like that? Or in Octavia’s apartment?” 

“I ... don’t. I feel weird staying in her apartment without her knowing. Not after our fight. And hotels are ... not really in my budget.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

Clarke crossed her arms before her chest as if she suddenly became self-aware of her get-up, but her voice was weary: “So, where are you staying then?” 

Bellamy shrugged. “The chairs in the hospital are very comfy.” They weren't. 

Clarke knew that and she looked concerned. 

“Do you want to shower?”  
  
~~~~~~~~~~ 

When he left the bathroom he felt like a new person. 

He also smelled like Clarke Griffin. He would never look at apple and mint the same way again. 

Clarke looked up from the mirror that hung next to her book shelf stocked with medical tomes. 

(Bellamy checked. If there was anything to judge a character by, it was books.) 

She finished her make-up and now wore a deep blue dress with white buttons on the back. She missed one and he wanted to point that out to her, when he realized that she was mustering him as well. He became aware that he just wore his black jeans. Clarke had insisted on properly washing his shirt in her washing machine. 

He was grateful, but also indecent. Quickly he looked away from her, just to find a black button-up shirt folded neatly next to the bathroom door to relieve him from his (shirtless) misery. 

“For you”, Clarke crossed the room between them and easily lifted herself on the counter of her open kitchen space, indicating that she must do that often. 

The shirt was a little bit loose around his stomach but other than this was a decent fit. He stuffed the shirt into his jeans and asked: “Why do you own men clothes?” 

She laughed: “Those are my dad’s, but I stole them. He has roughly the same built as you, shoulder-wise. I like to sleep in them.” 

Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. She blushed again and bit her bottom lip to hide her smile. 

A longing sigh escaped his throat as he watched her teeth pluck her lip, which he tried to disguise as a cough. He leaned next to her against the counter. 

“Am I holding you up? Your parents’ party must start soon, and you said you are already running late”, he reminded her when she looked at him confused. 

“Nah, I’m stalling. I don’t want to go. Did you have a special Christmas tradition with Octavia back at your home?” 

“The usual I guess. She, my mum and I, we would decorate the tree together and Octavia would place milk and cookies next to it, and the next morning she'd drag me out of bed at sunrise to open presents, unaware that I spent all night preparing them for her”, he laughed at the memories. “Then we would spend the day in our PJs. I would read to her. She always liked that, even when she could read by herself. We would watch holiday TV. If there was snow, we would to all the outdoor stuff.” 

Clarke rested her chin on her shoulder and smiled blissfully. 

“I always wanted that kind of Christmas”, she admitted, “But because my mom would usually work at some point during the holidays she was often not there. My father did a lot of stuff with me, but sometimes he had to work, too. And then they started this party-tradition for all their esteemed colleagues and friends and it is this high class thing where you have to dress up”, she motioned at her get up, “and fancy finger food and tasteful elevator music in the background. I was supposed to behave and be the golden child. When all I wanted to do was run around all day with a chocolate stained PJ, playing with my toys.” 

“Still want to play with your toys?”

She laughed: “I have different toys these days.” 

He sucked in air and had to cough, vividly remembering his discovery in Octavia’s apartment. Clarke seemed to remember too, but instead of blushing, she laughed: “I’m sorry for that.” 

_No, you are not._

“Well, not really. You were annoying and I had to shut you up.” 

It was his turn to laugh: “Fair enough.” 

She looked at the clock on the rear wall and groaned. Then she jumped off the counter. 

“I’m afraid I have to go. My mom will kill me, and not only threaten to do so, if I arrive anything later.” 

“Okay”, he pushed himself off as well, “But then you should probably fix that crooked buttoning on your dress first. We cannot let chaos take reign, can we?” 

Clarke looked at her back in her mirror and smirked dangerously: “I’ll keep it.” And meeting his eyes in the reflection, added: “What’s wrong with a little chaos?” 

Bellamy felt his pupils blowing wide. _Oh God, where have you been all my life?_ He quickly turned to the door to get into his shoes and leave this woman and this apartment and probably the state before he started doing something really, _really_ stupid. 

Clarke’s expression sobered and she made him stop short with her next words. 

“You want to come with me?” 

With one shoe in his hand he straightened and blinked once, twice at her: “What?” 

“Do you want to come with me to my parents’ party? You haven’t really left the hospital in days and honestly, I could really use some company.” 

She had gotten pale during her proposal, and yet he found himself nodding before he even properly realized what was happening. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

They stopped for a liquor store two blocks away. Bellamy didn’t want to show up at the Griffins’ doorstep as a surprise guest without any sort of host present at hand. Clarke just nodded and continued biting her lip. It was already red and puffy and gave Bellamy an ugly twist in his stomach, because ... _damn_. She just wouldn't stop. Did she have to do this? Didn’t she know just how fucking tempting that was? 

Bellamy realized  that this was a mistake. He would suffer. He would regret. 

_Merry Christmas, you stupid asshole._

Bellamy scanned the row with wine bottles behind the counter. He was no wine person and had no clue what he was doing. He sighed and turned to the guy behind the counter. 

“Hey, I need a bottle of wine. Can you recommend something?”  
  
The guy who looked up from the magazine in his hands: “Well, what wine?”  
  
_Jesus_. “I dunno, that’s why I’m asking.”  
  
“Dude, do I look like _I_ know what of this shit is good?”

_He has a point._

Bellamy leaned back slightly and stared through the glass door to muster Clarke, who was sitting in his truck and going through her hair with her finger, clearly upset with the results. Her lips were moving like she was talking to herself. He thought of her fancy apartment and the dress-up necessary for her to go to her parents’ party. 

He sighed again. 

“Give me your most expensive one.” 

The guy behind the counter stood up from his chair to follow Bellamy’s gaze and took a long, good look at the woman in his car. Then he smirked: “Meeting the parents?” 

Bellamy mmh-ed.

The guy put the bottle on the counter and took his money. “That's a keeper, dude.”

“Yeah ... Tell that to my sister.”

The guy stared at him with open mouth.

“My face exactly.” He took the bottle and left the store. 

Clarke was dialing on her phone when he returned to the car and shot him a quick smile. Then she turned her attention to the call. Bellamy did as if the label of the wine bottle was amazingly interesting to him. 

“Hey mum ... yeah, we are on our way. ... That’s why I’m calling because I will bring someone. ... No. .. No, mum, it’s ... ”, she cradled her face in her hand and listened to what her mum had to say to her. “No, mum it’s not Raven. She is _still_ not back.” 

His head snapped up at that. _Well,_ that _is interesting. Who is Raven?_

“Look ...”, Clarke shot him an unsure look and Bellamy tried to cover his reaction with patting down his pockets as if he was searching for the key which, he knew perfectly well, was already in the ignition, “It’s the brother of ... a friend of mine.” 

_Ok, so her mother also doesn’t know about O yet._

Clarke fiddled with the hem of her dress: “You don’t know her. She had an accident a few days ago and he basically hasn’t left the hospital since then.” 

She started exchanging some medical information and answering her mother’s questions even more extensively. 

“Yes. Look, is it ok that I bring him? ... His name is Bellamy. Well ... we will be there in half an hour. Ok, see you then.” 

She put the phone down and looked at him: “Just preparing my mom.” 

“Sure.” The truck came to life with an immense uproar and Clarke gave him directions. 

 

They were driving silently for about ten minutes, before Bellamy caved. 

He cleared his throat and prepared for the worst: “Your parents don’t know Octavia?” She winced. 

“I’ve been thinking about what to tell you, actually.”, she moved so she could face him. Her brow was furrowed and she looked like she was thinking hard what to say next: “Look, my parents don’t know about Octavia ... and, well ... _me_.” She sounded strangled at the last part. 

Bellamy huffed. _Maybe her parents are conservative? Maybe she hadn’t had her coming out with them yet? But then, ... who is that Raven person?_

“Therefore, I’d appreciate if tonight she is ... just an acquaintance?” she swallowed “I know this is inappropriate to ask of you, I shouldn’t have ...” 

“It’s fine.” He surprised even himself by answering so fast. “I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think things between you and your parents seem ... tense?” 

Clarke laughed dryly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Do they ... know?” 

“Know what?” 

He raised an eyebrow at her. She blushed. “No!” she replied too fast before catching herself, “No. They don’t ... _know_.” 

“Ok. I won’t tell. It’s not my place.” He tried a reassuring smile despite not being very reassured himself. Y _ou are dating my baby sister ... but hey, least of my problems, right?_

She seemed relieved and her tensed shoulders relaxed immediately. “Thank you. _Soo_ much!” 

_Too relieved_. 

He didn’t say anything further. 

He was, maybe, not the brightest star under the sky but he wasn’t stupid. Something was going on with Clarke, and he couldn’t figure out what. She seemed tense and stressed as soon as the conversation turned towards Octavia and their relationship. Of course it was a sensitive and tricky topic, but that went for Bellamy as well. Especially concerning heand her... attraction. Clarke picked up on that for sure. She was not stupid. Geez, she was _involved_! He wondered whether they might have had a fight or something else before the accident. He wondered if they might have broken up. 

His eyes trailed to Clarke in the seat next to him. They had been silent for another ten minutes before Bellamy cleared his throat again. 

“So, ... Raven. Is that an ex?” 

Clarke jumped in her seat and stared at him with big eyes. 

“Too soon?” 

“Are you being the protective big brother at the moment?” 

He smirked: “Somewhat, yeah ...” 

“She is my best friend. She is backpacking Canada right now and she is not gay. Well, at least I don’t know, ... it never really came up.” She looked into nothingness, thinking hard. 

Bellamy coughed. _How could that possibly_ never _have come up?_

 

They arrived at her parents’ place just a few moments later. The house was huge and the street was full of cars. They could already see and hear the guests of her parents’ soiree through the brightly lit windows. Tasteful Christmas decoration reflected in the masses of snow in their front yard and on the sidewalks of the suburban area of Chicago. 

Bellamy had to park further down the road and just turned off the engine, when Clarke suddenly hit her forehead with her flat hand. “I forgot my boots.” 

“What?” 

“My boots, they are in my car. I always keep them there, and I forgot to bring them with me. I will never get through the snow with _these_.” She stared chastisingly at her high heels. 

Bellamy sighed. “Hold up”, he got out and rounded the car, then opened Clarke’s door. She looked at him confused when he handed her the bottle of wine, turned and crouched a little bit in his knees while presenting her with his back. 

“Hop on.” 

“What?” 

“Piggyback ride. Hop on.” 

“Bellamy ...” 

“I swear I won’t drop you.” 

“That’s not it.” She sounded agonized so he turned around and she motioned towards her dress: “The skirt is ... really tight.” 

He straightened and rubbed his neck. Then he weakly extended his arms towards her: “Well, in this case ...” 

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but stayed silent. Instead she let him swoop her up in his arms. Almost shy, she wrapped hers around his neck to hold on and inadvertently his fingers gripped tighter on her thighs as he secured his hold on her. Her breath fanned on his neck and the V-neck of the shirt and he felt her shiver. Instinctively he cradled her closer to his chest to keep her warm, but heard her breath hitch when he did. She stared at him with big eyes. 

_Maybe we are both in deep ... maybe ..._

He held her so she could kick the door of his truck close with her foot. It made her laugh, and he wished he could make her laugh all the time. Then he carried her in silence up to the sidewalk, through the Griffins’ front yard and the two steps up to their porch. There, in front of the door, he let her down carefully. 

Clarke looked up at him, and realized again that she had the perfect size for him to tuck her to his chest and kiss the top of her head if he wanted. Her hands lingered on his shoulder. 

Then the door opened and a broad-built man with sand-colored hair, blue eyes and a bright face full of laughter lines stood in front of them, plunging them into a spotlight. 

“Well, that’s what I call an entrance.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dissolve Me" - Alt-J
> 
> Please excuse that it took me so long to update, but I hope you are happy with the result. 
> 
> Btw, I'm curios: How many of you would like Frank, the bank guy, to make an appearance? I don't know how it happened, but that little fella grew on me. I'm seriously considering, so lemme know. ;-) 
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. :-)   
> Follow me on tumblr if you want: http://things-of-inspiration.tumblr.com/


	6. Clarke - December, 25th

“Well, that’s what I call an entrance.”

„Hi Darling“  
Her father leaned in and kissed her on her cheek before turning to Bellamy and offering him his hand, „And you must be Bellamy. My wife told me you would join our daughter. I’m glad you made sure she wont get cold feet.“  
With a wink in Clarkes direction, he added: „And I mean that literally as well as in a metaphorical sense.“

She groaned before she could stop herself.  
Bellamy next to her cleared his throat once, twice … „Clarke forgot her boots back home … I mean at her apartment. In her car. In Chicago. Her home.“ And, after some thinking, he added: „Sir.“  
Jake listend unimpressed and nodded slowly: „I see. That was very gallant of you.“

There was an awkward silence while her father looked at her and Bellamy before clapping his hand together: „Let’s go see the others, shall we?“

From the corner of her eyes Clarke could see Bellamy rubbing his hands against his jeans repeatedly. For the millionth time Clarke reminded herself of her stupidity and her bad decision-making: This would be a very long, and very tensed evening.

Her mother greeted them in the hall and while giving her a short hug whispered in her ear: „Your buttons on the back are crooked, darling.“  
Clarke snarled for a second before Abby let her go and shook Bellamys hand: „Bellamy. I’m pleased to meet you. Clarke told me about your sister, I’m very sorry. I have a colleague here who specialized in that field, let me introduce you to him … I’m sure he can advise you on the further procedure.“  
„Thank you. That is very kind. Also, for the invitation.“ Suddenly he remembered the wine: „I brought something, but I …“

Without a word Clarke extended her arm and offered him the bag with the wine.  
„I hope you’ll like it.“

Her father took a look at the label. Clarke could see in his eyes that he was not happy about what he read there.  
„You don’t drink wine, don’t you?“  
Bellamy swallowed hard: „Oh … no, I … if it's not good I can…“  
Clarke cleared her throat loudly and gave her father a stern look.  
He noticed, sighed and then covered it up with a strangled laugh: „Oh, nevermind! Nevermind, son! I just … don't know the brand, thats all.“    
He was such a bad liar.

She knew where she got that trait from, but (lucky for her) Bellamy Blake was even worse at detecting this Griffin-inability, judging by his relieved expression.  
„Thank you, Bellamy. We will … use it … wisely.“  
Bellamy turned to her mother: „You have a very nice home.“  
Abby gave him her best smile: „Well, thank you. There is so much space since Clarke moved out. We hardly know what to do with it.“  
_And that would be low blow number two, count keep going …_  
  
With a pointed look at her daughter, Abby had Bellamy hooked onto her arm and moved him towards a group of men, standing next to the fireplace.

Her father laughed: „Where did you pick him up, Clarke? It’s so unlike you to bring in stray pets.“

Clarke sighed. „Dad, be nice. He has a hard time.“ _And me too. Me too._  
He put an arm over her shoulder: „I’m sorry honey, but it’s been a while since you brought a boy. Let us tease.“  
  
_He is not a boy. And he certainly is not_ my _boy, despite him doing some very un-boyish things to me in my dreams._ She stopped herself, ashamed, as she remembered the night after she had been with him at Octavias apartment.   
She could not remember getting herself off so quickly ever before.

„He is a friend.“  
Her fathers raised her eyebrow at him: „You sure about that, Clarke?“   
Clarke sighed.  
Of course. He had caught them in their most intense moment yet. He wouldn’t be fooled. Just as her father wasn’t able to lie neither was she, despite her allusions that she got quite good at it recently.  
But, … she also didn’t wanted to. Not here, not to her father. This was not their relationship.   
  
„It wouldn’t work.“ she confessed.  
„He has someone else?“  
„Something like that.“ Clarke helped herself to one of the champagne glasses and took a sip. The sparkle on her tongue immediately put some red on her cheeks.  
„We just met, and that in not the most favorable circumstances.“ She laughed at herself: This was an understatement.  
„I’m not even sure he likes me.“ It was her petty attempt to deny all that tension between them and the emotions that kept twisting her stomach.  
Her father had none of it: „Oh, he likes you.“

 Clarke felt a toxic blossom of hope in her chest. _No. No. No. Don't do this to yourself, Clarke. Don't. No._

„Maybe. But still … not in that way.“  
She didn’t dared to look into her fathers eyes when she said that, because … fuck it! Bellamy did. And so did she. Clarke knew it and he knew it. There was something between him and her that went beyond and they both knew it. They were both uncomfortable with it, but couldn’t stop neither and sometimes … he was looking into her eyes in a way that did things to her.  
  
She felt a lump in her throat.

„Look, honey …“ her father started, but Clarke wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t.  
„Dad. He is very kind, although he tries to hide it sometimes. He is very worried about his sister, and he has every reason to be. Octavia is not good. He cant do nothing about it. He lives in that hospital. I just wanted to give him a break.“  
Jake Griffin looked at her for a long moment, before asking: „Giving him a break … by life-feeding him to the wolves?“ Her father laughed loudly.

It was his way of letting her know that this would be over if she wished, and that she could talk to him about it some other day. There was not sound on the earth Clarke loved more than his laugh. But not this time. She was still trembling within.  
  
Bellamy Blake screwed with her head and she screwed with his and they both knew it and now her father knew it, too.

Confessing to Bellamy never felt harder than in this very instance.  I _have to. I have to do it._  
  
She wanted to cry.  
But she was also strong.

She would do it.

Her father gave her a kiss on the temple and joined a group of their friends at the couch.  
Clare downed the rest of the champagne and cringed. Her eyes found Bellamy talking to one of her mothers colleagues, before she took another glass, this time filled with orange juice, and faced the rest of the party invitees.

Two hours, and three job offers later („under the hand“ with a wink and her approving mother in her back), her father whispered into her ear: „Bellamy is hiding in my office.“

Clarke bit her lip and Jake Griffin winked at her. She reached the door to her fathers office and found Bellamy leaning against the big desk holding a framed picture in his hands.

He smirked. Clarke stomach was filled with butterflies and she wanted to curse, long and loud.  
 „I understand your sentiment of not coming here.“ he looked slightly upset, „I’m sweating like a fuckboy in a church.“  
Clarke had to smile: „Sorry.“  
„No, you are not.“ he put the picture back.

She was not. She was so happy he was here. With her, and alone.  
_I am so, so screwed._

Clarke strolled through the room and stopped next to him. „You are right. I’m not. It took my mom not even five seconds to mentioned the crooked buttoning.“  
Bellamy laughed: „No place for chaos in the Griffin-household?“  
„None.“

They were silent before Bellamy said: „I like your father.“  
She beamed at him.  
„He sent me here, after catching me blocking the toilette for a tad too long.“  
Bellamy cleared his throat, „He also recognized the shirt.“

Clarke felt herself becoming pale: „What did he say?“

„He gave me his best father-does-not-really-approve-of-this-son-impression - which is terrifying by the way - and told me to send it back to him after the holidays. Dry-cleaned, if I so please.“  
He thought for a moment, „I believe he also sniffed at me and recognized your body wash. Their might be a few questions coming your way, Griffin.“   
  
He smiled apologetic.  
Clarke groaned and hid her face in her hands, but flinched when she touched the sensitive skin around the cut in her palm.

„Does ist still hurt?“, Bellamy asked concerned and took her hand to examine his work from earlier this evening.  
His hands were big and soft and warm and they sent a shiver through Clarke's stomach and she quickly withdrew: „No, it’s just sensitive. It’ll heal.“  
She wished she hasn’t see the hurting expression in his eyes when she withdrew. But as quickly as it came it cleared again, leaving room for the relaxed-smirking-resting-face of Bellamy Blake.  
„Yeah … Sorry again for showing up like that earlier. Also … your face.“, he grinned. He enjoyed teasing her.

Clarke nodded. She was not a fan of surprise visits, she liked to be prepared. And her embarrassment of imagining Bellamy wet and naked in her shower had only been surpassed when she had realized in what state her make-up had been, when she opened the door for him.

_Why did I ask him to come in the first place? This is crazy, Clarke! Why is he here?! He shouldn’t be here!_

„Where was this taken?“, Bellamy suddenly asked, holding the framed picture in his hand again.  
It showed a 15-years old Clarke smiling into the camera with her mother in her arm.   
„Paris. You’ve ever been to Europe?“  
Bellamy snorted: „I’d wish. I always wanted to travel through Italy. Rome especially.“  
Clarke smiled encouragingly: „Why Rome?“  
Bellamy sighed longingly: „The history, Clarke, … so much it and … and the food and the weather, but mostly … this place breathes history. Center of the Roman Empire, Clarke, … all the architecture, and art and …“ he stopped himself and smirked, „I’m a fan.“  
„I guessed.“  
„I never left the states before, but when I do it will be Italy. I even got myself a passport, and it’s sitting right there, waiting to be used. But there are no stamps in it. It’s mocking, really …“  
„I’m sure you will go there.“ Clarke tried to assure him.  
He shrugged. „Doesn’t look like it at the moment.“  
„Why not?“ she asked softly.

Bellamy drew a deep breath: „I … I have a lot of depths, Clarke. I made some wrong decisions. I needed quick money to keep custody for Octavia and now … I don't know where to start to pay them off …“

Clarke didn’t knew what to say so she choose to don't speak at all.

It was Bellamy, who broke their silence.

„You look very happy on that picture.“  
„I was. I spent the summer there for school, an extracurricular languages class. My parents visited me.“  
„That was before your big fall-out, I guess?“

Clarke sighed. She knew that she and her mother looked so much more comfortable around each other in that picture than everything Bellamy must had witnessed this evening.

„Not long before. It started shortly before graduation.“  
„Want to talk about it?“  
„The problem is that we talked too much about it already without getting anywhere. It’s frustrating. …You know, I made this piece?“

She pointed at the canvas hanging on the opposite wall.  
Bellamy pointed too: „You … did that?“  
She nodded.  
„Wow, Clarke, this … this is amazing.“  
Clarkes blushed: „Thanks.

I always loved art. I loved the connection between art and medicine.The human body is art too and drawing it was understanding it. Or plants, for example, plants that can be a remedy against certain symptoms, or kill when misused and all it would take was some mistake in depicting it for future generations. The evolution of the medical sciences today relies so much on art, on paintings and drawings, … it was so clear to me that these two should be connected. And my parents indulged me throughout school, art supplies and shows … I had it all figured out before graduation: I would go to college, do pre-med and get a degree in fine arts as a second major. My mother … was not amused. She’d phrased it as worried though.  
She said she would be worried I would neglect my pre-med studies in favor of some paintings and that I would not have time for both. I was young, and as unsure about my future as any other person graduating from school. And she was my role-model. I love my father so much, but I always wanted to be like my mother. I was always so impressed by her. She is my mother, and she always knew what was best for me, so why not this, too?“

Clarke sighed.

„But then, I’m as pig-headed as she is and we spent all summer fighting over it and … it was ugly. She said that I could do art anytime, but if I want to become a medial surgeon now is my only chance to work for it. I understood her argument, and being a doctor, … it is my dream. But why was I supposed to decide for this dream, or for that dream? Why not both? I couldn’t understand and it was frustrating for her that I wasn’t listening to her.  
In the end, in one memorable fight, she said that she would not support my decision doing both, pre-med and art, and that I would have to find another way to support myself.  
And I caved. I dropped the art-degree. I never regretted doing pre-med and then going on as I did, but … I regret never giving it a chance. I don't know if I could have done it. I don't blame my mother for trying to make me do what she thought was best for me. But I’m blaming her for not let me try! I blame her as much as I blame myself. And we … never really got over it.“

They were silent for a minute, until Bellamy cleared his throat and nodded towards the photography in his hands: „Well … a good catfight then?“

Clarke laughed and stole the picture back from him.  
He starred at her and his features were soft, his eyes were the color of molten chocolate and he looked at her as if he never wanted to look at someone else. She wished he would never. Heat rose in her cheeks.   
  
„You usually don't laugh very often, don't you?“  
Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head.  
  
„No. I don’t laugh much.“  
„Why?“  
Clarke just shook her head again.  
  
He put his hand on her knee and squeezed: „And with Octavia?“  
Clarke breath hitched. She shook her head.  
  
Bellamy licked his lips. His voice was soft and raw.  
„But with me …“

Clarke felt an immense tiredness overcome her and hot tears burned in the corner of her eyes. _I have to tell him. I need to tell him._  
His hand was still on her knee and she put hers above his. Electricity went through her body and made her shudder and she sobbed dryly.

„Bell, I really need to tell you something …“  
He nodded, as if he knew. _Did he?_  
„About me … and Octavia, I should have told you sooner …“

She clang to his hand and she starred at the sharp corner where his jaw and his neck met because it would be easier.

It would be easy.  
As easy as jumping off of a cliff.

„Clarke …“  
„Bellamy, I …“

The door opened.   
Clarke wanted to scream.

Theolonius Jaha looked at them, his eyes darted to where their hands were linked. Bellamy quickly withdrew and her hand fell limb in her lap.  Jaha cleared his throat: „Clarke, your mom said to get you. Dinner is served.“

He left them.  Bellamy stood up.  
Giving her a shy smile he left for the dinning room.

He still didn’t knew.   
Clarke wanted to scream.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Her mother had them seated close to her on the dinner table. Jaha sat on the other side of the table and glared, which made Clarke sigh. Sometimes she thought that their parents never got over their break-up like Wells and she had. This was getting progressively more difficult.

Her mother asked Bellamy about his professional life in an attempt to start a conversation with a topic that might seemed to be the lest controversial, given his sick sister and the confusing relationship to her daughter that neither of the involved could really understand. However, Abby Griffin was soon to realized that Bellamy’s complete existence at her dining table was controversial.  
Her smile got more and more forced.

Dinner went well, by Clarke’s dropping standards. It was only after that shit hit the fan.

She and Bellamy were eager helping with the dishes and as soon as the kitchen door closed behind them, Bellamy’s tensed shoulders relaxed visibly.

„Your family is intense.“  
Clarke laughed. „You tell me.“  
Bellamy smiled at her and her stomach dropped to her knees. 

„Clarke, thank you for bringing me here. Really. I needed it. The hospital … watching O can being unable to do anything for her … it made me sick. Thank you for helping me.“  
„I’m happy that you are here too.“

For a moment his eyes were flickering to her lips and Clarke stopped breathing, but then he gave her a bright smile and together they left the kitchen, laughing about a comment of her she couldn’t remember making, when someone started clapping.

Irritated they stopped short in the door, when her father took a step forward and all eyes in the rooms landed on them, some smug, some openly laughing.

„Mistletoe.“

Clarke felt herself becoming pale, and didn't dared to look at Bellamy.

„Dad, please …“  
„Don’t ‚Please-Dad‘-me, Clarke. In this house we obey holiday-rules. Now, kiss.“

Bellamy was painfully still next to her.

Some of the other guest picked up and encouraged them loudly. Her mother was standing besides, arms crossed over her chest and with a unreadable expression, which meant she disapproved.

Then, Bellamy carefully touched the small of her back.

It was so quick she barely knew it happened, but he gave her a quick peek on the cheek, and some boo-ed. She turned towards him, eyes wide and he was still so close that she was acting before thinking.

She leaned in.

His lips were dry and soft, and he sighed into her mouth when they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Overboard" - Ingrid Michaelson
> 
> The unbelievable is, I'm still kind of working on this fic? Sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think. :-)   
> Follow me on tumblr if you want: http://reason-plans-serendipity.tumblr.com/


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